Juncture
by ariadne-chan
Summary: Noun: a point of time, one made critical by a concurrence of circumstances. 'There was a spark in Usui's eyes she didn't often see, as he took her by the hand and led her straight to the heart of the festivities. She didn't see the harm in a second kiss.'


_my first shot at a maid-sama fic. i apologize if i went borderline fluff. have fun reading!_

—

_i. omake_

Usui Takumi shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze. He was suddenly very aware of every strand of cat hair that clung to his clothes, and that the blazer that hung from his shoulders was a little crumpled from using it as a pillow earlier. There was no excuse for his tangle of hair, which he self consciously wanted to flatten, but didn't dare try, lest it interfere with the sizing up he was receiving from the very angry girl in front of him. He had heard that the recently appointed school president is quite a presence, and had also heard that she was a descendant of Hades. It was something he definitely didn't want to mess up, this first impression.

He almost jumped as the other finally spoke, arms crossed and a clear look of mistrust directed towards him.

"You boys are so troublesome! You! What are you staring at? Help with the cleaning or you're going to get it!"

He wondered whether he'd finally met his match.

—

_ii. episode three : misaki wa nani iro? tennen shoku?_

Looking at her from that angle, she seems touchable and within reach.

Usui remembered how, once, at a pointless cafe event on an obscenely hot day, Misaki wore some sort of summery blouse and skirt set and called him _onii-tan._ All through the night he watched her out of the corner of one eye, the judicious movements of her shoulders and the repositioning of her fingers on the tray. Occasionally she would spare him a glance (a glare, really) and he would manage to look the creepy, perverted alien part. He often wondered why it was so fun to watch Kaichou lose her cool; he just hoped he wouldn't drive her away.

And then the event was over and everyone was leaving, all of them tired and a little sleepy. Pausing in her task of gathering up abandoned glasses of consumed ice cream, Misaki yawned and stretched, raising her arms over her pigtailed head and arched her spine along with the motion. The hem of her shirt rose with her arms and Usui had caught a glimpse of her hip, the sharp edginess of her bones straining against the skin like a knife pressed to elastic.

The sight of her, brief and skeletal, had broken his heart. From then on he vowed he would be there for her. _Always._

—

_iii. episode four : netto aidoru aoi-chan_

Despite her so-called apparent shapelessness in uniform (Aoi-chan sure loved to bring up her lack of fashion sense every chance he gets), when Misaki was forced to wear the dress Aoi had made for her, Usui had discovered that she is all lines. Her breasts and hips are vague curves, soft beneath her apron and skirt. Her shoulders and the bones encircling her throat were like long fingers, sharp lines. Aoi liked to say that Misaki is no swan, but Usui insists that she might as well dress in white, as tragically mute and lovely as she is.

He shakes his head and smirks at her dumbstruck expression. The frills would have to go.

—

_iv. episode eleven : usui takumi no himitsu ni semaru!_

Usui knows Misaki and her friends had been following him around town earlier, though he couldn't quite understand just why. And so he writes all this in the notebook he keeps on his empty apartment, sketching lines about the scattered text, thinking of ways to try and make her happy.

He never comes up with much, but the fact that he is trying eases a little of the heartbreak that watching her entails; because she wavers subtly, like an image on silvered glass. She is strong, he thinks, but she is human, after all.

The soft yet insistent mewling of a cat sounded near his head. _Hungry_, it seemed to say as it pawed at his head, vying for attention. He'd just have to feed the cat.

—

_v. episode fourteen:_ _ichinen nanakumi kanou soutarou_

"You like me."

He had never been more serious in his life, and his heart was beating double time because he'd waited for this moment all his life. He had even forgotten to use the dry, sing-song tone she hated so much—and just when he finally had enough and had decided to get to the bottom of it all—the line went dead.

It hurt.

He wondered when she would realize it, that Misaki, that he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

_— _

_v. episode fifteen: _gakkou kengaku-kai de megane usagi_ _

It doesn't matter if she weighs the same or not_—_she has become all hard lines, an equation, part of his small, constricted world. He carries her off on his back like this is exactly where she belongs. She grumbles that this is something that is obviously not meant to be and he complains about the lack of attention but the fact that she is there with him makes him inexplicably happy.

She should be incalculable, he thinks. Some sort of impossible variable in an equation that does not require a solution to prove its existence.

_—_

_vi. episode seventeen : usui, teki ni mawaru_

It's like she's slipping away from him, ounce by ounce, fat dissolving into compact, unyielding muscle. He lowers his gaze as she begins to give him hell for not resting his injured back and for getting injured and trying to compete with her and Aoi in the first place.

Just how was he supposed to get it across her thick head that he would never, _ever, _let her pose for photos in sexy outfits with random bastards?

Maybe he should just make everything easy and kiss some sense into her right there and then.

.

.

.

Bloody fireworks.

—

_vii. episode twenty-six : zurusugiruyo ayuzawa, usui no ahou!_

Yumesaki's culture festival was so different from their usual pace, but there was a spark in Usui's eyes she didn't often see, at least not in public, as he took her by the hand, leading her straight to the heart of the festivities. As he led her through the steps of the traditional Odori dance, smiling and laughing, Misaki was absolutely certain of the existence of ancient magic. She followed the graceful movements with all the clumsiness of a beginner in Western clothing, but couldn't help but match her Romeo's infectious smile with a grin of her own.

_Even on the tips of her toes_

_The height was almost insurmountable._

_But since she'd already pledged to take responsibility,_

_Misaki didn't see the harm_

_in a second kiss._

_—_

_i'd love to hear from you. ja ne!  
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